While passing the lake one evening, I discovered a single red rose near the water with a heartfelt note attached. It was from a woman named Clara, who could no longer reach the lake’s edge due to her wheelchair but wanted to leave something for her late husband, whose ashes were scattered there. I released the rose into the lake on her behalf,
feeling deeply moved by the quiet sorrow and love in her words. The next day, still thinking about her, I visited a nearby café and met Evelyn—Clara’s mother-in-law—who confirmed Clara’s story. As we spoke, I learned about Clara’s pain and the deep love she shared with her husband Daniel, who had passed away unexpectedly two years earlier. Evelyn had left the rose in hopes someone kind would find it, and that person happened to be me.